


I Can't Do This Alone

by PrincessAnastasiaVladescu



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blood, Cutting, Depression, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 12:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13388166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAnastasiaVladescu/pseuds/PrincessAnastasiaVladescu
Summary: It’s my fault.It’s my fault I’m here.It’s my fault my clothes are torn.It’s my fault I’m bleeding.It’s my fault they attacked me.(Depressing fic warning. Character rape, self harm, suicide attempt.)





	I Can't Do This Alone

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you in the US struggling with suicidal thoughts, please call 1-800-273-8255  
> I am in no way romanticizing/glorifying suicide or self harm.  
> These are issues I personally went through, I am a sexual assault survivor, and am currently battling with a recent self-harm relapse. This story was my way of venting my feelings.   
> BIG TW: THERE IS REFERENCED RAPE, AND A SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF A SUICIDE ATTEMPT.

It was freezing, his entire body was numb. He could move, get help, but he just wanted to lie here. He didn’t care if he died tonight, that would be okay. It’d been like any other day, just walking home from work as usual, but he’d been careless. Too excited to get home to his best friend, his love, he’d been careless. He wasn’t paying attention. It was his fault.

            _It’s my fault._

_It’s my fault I’m here._

_It’s my fault my clothes are torn._

_It’s my fault I’m bleeding._

_It’s my fault they attacked me._

His mind was full of nothing but self-accusation. He thought of all the ways he could have avoided this; he could have called Craig to bring him home (but he didn’t want to bother him, he walked home alone all the time!), he could have gone home at the same time as his parents (but he had to make sure inventory was done just right!), he could have called a cab (but he could just walk home!).

            None of that mattered now. He would just lay here on the ground, his skin aching with bruises that had yet to form, his clothes torn and covered in filth, his body defiled. He would wait for death to come so he wouldn’t have to face his boyfriend, his family, his friends. How could he tell them what happened? They’d be disappointed, disgusted.

            He must have drifted out of consciousness, his normally trembling body exhausted from shivering in the cold, because the next thing he knew there were flashing lights around him. The red and blue burned his eyelids, making his already aching head throb even more. Who called the police?

            He felt himself lifted, his eyes flew open at the feeling of someone touching him. They were going to hurt him.

            _Please stop!_

_“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”_ The sound of his own voice startled him, the paramedics seemed calm enough however.

            “Sir, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” He just shook his head, trembling and trying to get away. He didn’t get very far, they’d strapped him to a gurney.

            “I-I just want to g-go home!” He choked out, wanting desperately to just go home and forget any of this.

            “We’re taking you to the hospital, is there anyone we can call—”

            “No! D-don’t call anyone!!”

            “Okay, please relax. We’ll be there soon.”

            The next few hours passed by like a blur, but he felt like he was treading water. Speaking, walking, just doing anything felt like he was stuck in quicksand. He struggled to get any words out, he stumbled over his own feet. All he wanted was to sleep, for this night to end.

The doctors poked and prodded, taking samples from his most sensitive areas, calming him as he’d scream and cry.           At least he could cry now.

            He heard their words, but they seemed to get stuck in his mind. They constantly had to repeat themselves, as he wasn’t responding. They talked about trauma, about tests, but the word that snapped him back to his senses was _rape._

_I was raped._

He couldn’t wrap his mind around that. He was raped.

            When they discharged him, they urged him to cooperate with the police. He told them he didn’t know who they were, didn’t see their faces. He just wanted to go home, he couldn’t handle going to the police station and telling them every gruesome detail of what happened.

            The police officer was too kind, personally driving him home in an unmarked car, giving him her business card. She even put her personal number, just in case he needed to talk. Her kindness didn’t quite touch his heart though, he couldn’t feel anything except for the pain.

            He was scared to open the door. Their lights were on, Craig hadn’t gone to bed. He was probably up and worried about him. His phone had died at work, so he wasn’t even sure how many times his boyfriend tried to call him.

            With the detective watching him, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He felt tears prick at his eyes as the familiar scent of home, of Craig, surrounded him. He took off his ruined jacket, tossing it in the trash, before rushing upstairs. His only hope was that he could change his clothes and wash himself off before his boyfriend saw him. They’d cleaned him off at the hospital, but he needed to scrub every last part of them off of him.

            “Tweek!” Craig’s voice called from their bed. He had been sitting on the edge, his phone held close to his forehead, elbows on his knees. When Tweek opened the door he shot up, dropping his phone and rushing to his boyfriend. His eyes darkened as he saw the state he was in, instantly making Tweek tremble.

            “C-Craig…I-I…” He couldn’t find the words, his heart ached to tell him everything, but he was too afraid. He was afraid that he wouldn’t love him anymore, that he’d be as disgusted with him as he was with himself. Instead of pressing him further, the dark-haired man pulled him by his hand into the bathroom.

            They stayed silent as Craig helped him out of his ruined clothes, gulping as he saw the bruises all over his lover’s pale skin. He took a warm washcloth, patting his irritated skin. He was gentle, caring, and most of all careful with him. Tweek didn’t even realize he’d started crying until a sharp sob choked him.

            “I-I…I-I’m s-sorry!” He blurted out, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. He couldn’t handle this, it was too much. Craig hesitantly wrapped his arms around the quivering man, rubbing his back and shushing him.

            “Why are you sorry?” He didn’t ask him what was wrong, he knew that Tweek would tell him when he was ready.

            “I-I…I-I was… _r-raped…!”_ He said the word with disgust, sobs wracking his body. His boyfriend stiffened, he could feel him shaking with anger.

            _“What!?”_ He knew he’d be angry! He never should have told him!

            _I’m such an idiot!_

“S-sorry, Tweekers. I’m not upset with you, honey. You have bandages on, did you go to a hospital? Talk to the police?” The blonde could only nod, harsh cries still escaping his throat. He didn’t deserve someone like Craig, he didn’t deserve to be cared for like this. He was dirty, he was a failure.

            “I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe…” _No no no!_ He wasn’t supposed to blame himself!

            _It was my fault!_

He shook his head, trying to calm his breathing. His heart felt like it was tearing apart, he felt sick to his stomach.

            “You need to get some sleep…” Craig led him back to the bedroom, pulling out some pajamas for his boyfriend. Tweek let his boyfriend put them on him, his body moving on its own. His joints felt stiff, he felt his movements were too robotic. He was helped into bed, the covers tucked tightly around him. The taller man didn’t lay under the covers, nor did he move too close. Tweek was grateful for that, he didn’t want to be touched and he hated himself for it. He couldn’t even handle being held by his own boyfriend.

            He didn’t sleep. When his body couldn’t handle consciousness, he’d drift off only to be haunted by nightmares. One time he woke up screaming, Craig rushed to his side of the bed, having just gotten up to step out of the bedroom, trying everything to calm him. He just sat up, screaming and crying. Craig reached up to stroke his face only to have his hand slapped away. When Tweek realized what he’d done, he covered his mouth with his hands, tears slipping down his cheeks.

            He’d apologized over and over again, and Craig just brushed it off. He smiled at him, assuring him he’d be more careful with touching him for a while. Tweek hated it, he hated feeling like such a burden on his beloved.

            It was about seven in the morning when Tweek overheard Craig on the phone outside the bedroom.

            “Hello Mr. Tweak, it’s Craig. T-Tweek isn’t doing great, can he take some time off of work? He’s alright, he’s just not feeling well. Thank you so much. Yeah, of course I’ll have him call you when he’s feeling better. Yep, you too. Bye” Tweek felt too numb to care that he didn’t tell his dad anything. He felt too numb to care about anything.

                                                            ----------------------

            It had been days, maybe weeks, since Tweek left the house. He didn’t eat much, maybe a few bites of food here and there. He showered every day, but he could still feel hands all over him. He could never scrub his skin hard enough.

             Craig had been so supportive, making sure he ate something, drank water. He stayed distant physically, worried that Tweek would have a bad reaction. He had stayed home with him as long as he could, but when he’d gotten a warning from his boss, Tweek encouraged him to go.

            If he was honest with himself, he just wanted to be alone for a while.

            Craig had been hesitant, but Tweek ultimately convinced him to go back to work. They both needed the money so they could go to college next year, and so they could pay their bills. He left Tweek, blowing a kiss and shooting one last worried glance before shutting the door.

            Tweek had gotten a call from the detective while Craig was at work, apparently, he hadn’t been the first person attacked by the same group and they were hopeful they’d arrest them soon. The news would have made him happy, but he just wondered how the other people who’d been attacked were doing this. How did they deal with the pain? With the fear?

            He never wanted to see them again, but he’d have to testify if they were caught. He secretly hoped they weren’t caught, or that he’d be dead if they were.

                                                -----------------------------

            He’d gotten back on his feet, but he wasn’t himself anymore. His family and friends definitely noticed a difference, but Tweek just shrugged them off when they asked. He still worked diligently, now he’d only work in the mornings. He’d still go out with friends, but he would never leave alone. He always had Craig with him when he left the house, too afraid to walk alone anymore.

            Craig had tried to convince Tweek to go to counseling, to talk to someone, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t relive what happened. The distance between them seemed to be growing, and Tweek knew he’d leave him one day. He could see it happening, their shared future he’d always imagined was crumbling, all because of him.

            There was no stopping this spiraling, he’d never be free of the hands all over him. He’d never feel normal again, he’d never feel anything but numbness and pain. He’d welcomed it as a new normal, slowly coming to terms with it. Nothing prepared him for things to get bad again.

            It had been a normal day, he’d gone to work, come home with Craig, kissed him goodbye before work (he’d even started kissing his boyfriend again!). He’d gone to the bathroom to take his daily shower, but when he looked in the mirror all he could see were the hands all over his body, they touched him places he’d only let one person touch. They clawed at his skin, or was that him trying to get them off?

            He didn’t know how long he’d sat in the bathroom, crying. The mirror was in shattered pieces all around him. He’d freaked out and punched the glass, he couldn’t look at himself with all the hands covering him. His hand was oozing blood, the sharp pain had been what brought him back to reality. He looked at the sharp glass in the floor, picking up a shard to examine his face.

            His eyes were red and puffy, tears staining his sallow cheeks. Dark circles tattooed the skin underneath his swollen eyes, making him look almost sickly.

            He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want to wake up every day and put on a mask, he didn’t want to worry his precious Craig, he didn’t want to lie to his family and friends anymore. He didn’t want to live anymore.

                                                -------------------------

            Craig held him tightly that night after he’d found Tweek in the floor surrounded by glass. He didn’t like the way he was staring intently at the sharp piece in his hand, the way his hand dripped blood without him even noticing he’d been gripping the glass too hard.

            When he asked him what had happened, he didn’t say anything. He just been staring off, blinking up at Craig like he didn’t even know he’d come in the room. His eyes, the big green eyes he’d fallen in love with, were dull, lifeless. He didn’t know what else he could do, he was going to have to convince his Tweek to go to therapy, he couldn’t do this on his own.

            When Tweek woke up the next morning, he was shocked to see Craig sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders quivering with silent sobs. He watched, stunned as the strongest person he knew broke down, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. When the blonde sat up, Craig jumped, struggling to compose himself before facing his boyfriend.

            “W-what’s wrong…?” The dark-haired man was quiet for a long time, thinking of the words to say.

            “I-I’m worried about you, Tweekers…” Tweek felt his heart throb in his chest, he was causing the man he loved so much pain.

            “I-I’m sorry, C-Craig…” He said pathetically. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

            “P-please…L-let me help you…” He finally looked at the blonde, his eyes pierced into his.

            “H-how…?’

            “Let me take you to talk to someone…” Tweek shook his head. He didn’t want to relive the worst day of his life, he didn’t want a stranger’s judging eyes on him.

            “P-please…! You’re not okay a-and I nothing I do seems to help!”

            “N-nothing can help me, Craig!” He didn’t know why the words slipped from his lips, why they sounded much angrier than he intended. He shouldn’t be yelling at the one person trying to help him, he shouldn’t be angry at _him._

            “Tweek…” He was trying hard to be soothing, but he was hesitant to come too close. The blonde knew he was turning into a monster, he knew he was pushing away those he loved, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He couldn’t control his own emotions, they just attacked without control. They were like ravenous animals, pouncing and feeding off of him until he was hollow.

            “J-just leave me alone, Craig!” No. He didn’t want Craig to leave, he didn’t want to be alone! Why was he doing this!?

            _Why am I like this!?_

“Please, Tweek…Just talk to me, babe…”

            _“JUST GO AWAY!”_ Craig gaped at his boyfriend, stunned into silence. He could see the hurt expression on his boyfriend’s face, but he was gone before he could apologize, before he could take it back. He expected the front door to slam, but it almost hurt worse to hear it quietly click close.

                                                ----------------------------

            Papers littered the floor, all attempts to get his words right, all of them failing. Tears burned his vision, making it harder to try to write. He was afraid Craig would blame himself, he just wanted his lover to know it wasn’t his fault.

            _It’s my decision._

_It’s what I want._

_I’m sorry._

He finally settled on something that was good enough, folding it gently and sitting it on Craig’s pillow. He kissed his lover’s familiar hat one more time, smiling small to himself. He felt lifted somehow, he felt free knowing that the pain would be over soon.

            He turned to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, Craig had cleaned up the mess from the broken mirror, replacing it with a smaller mirror they’d decorated their living room with. He stared at himself, grimacing at the sight of himself. He’d become so pale, so skinny. His heart raced at the memory of seeing the hands all over him, making him tear his eyes away from his reflection.

            He instead focused on running a bath for himself, making the water very warm like he always liked it. He left his clothes on, he didn’t want anyone-even Craig-to find him naked. He searched their drawer until he found an extra blade for their razors, he held it in his palm, his heart pounding in his chest.

            The water was warm and inviting as he slipped in. He waited a moment, hoping that Craig would find it in his heart to forgive him.

            _It’s my decision._

He jerked his sleeves up, fingers gripping the small razor blade. He took a deep breath before dragging the metal across his pale forearm. He didn’t do it right, just a little cat scratch wound appeared, barely any blood beading from the wound.

            He lost count at how many times he tried before he felt dizzy. One cut in particular was bleeding profusely, the water around him turning pink. He relaxed in the tub, closing his eyes. He eventually let the dizziness take him.

            He wasn’t sure when he’d drifted out of consciousness, but now he could vaguely hear loud banging around him. He was too tired to open his eyes, he didn’t really care enough to try.

            He was aware of the screaming. The sound pounded in his eardrums, but he was too tired. He just wanted to sleep.

            He felt his body shaking, a cold chill coming over him. He heard the person screaming his name now, pressure on his numb arms.

            _Tweek!_

_TWEEK!_

_Wake up!_

_Oh, god! Please wake up!_

They were crying now, the sound broken and panicked. He could hear a low buzzing of words, he vaguely recognized their address.

            Why couldn’t he sleep?

            He just wanted to sleep.

                                                            ----------------------

            Craig paced around the family waiting room, still covered in his love’s blood. A kind doctor gave him his jacket, but he still knew what was there. He could still see the image of his boyfriend, jagged cuts all over his arms, limp in a tub full of blood. He’d been so stupid, he never should have left him. He should have stayed with him, even when he pushed him away. But he was afraid.

            He was too afraid that he would snap, he would say something to Tweek that he’d regret. He had to cool down, get some air, and now his boyfriend might die because he was careless. The nurses passing by gave him sympathetic looks, they all must know what was going on. They lived in a small town, everyone knew everything.

            “Craig!” Richard Tweak’s voice reached his ears as he stumbled in the room. He took one look at the young man’s pale face, blank expression, and held his wife close.

            “Is he…?” He feared the worst too.

            “I-I don’t know…I-I think I got home i-in time…” His voice was soft, rough after crying and screaming.

            They all waited for what felt like hours, Richard and Craig were silent, Richard holding his wife while he sat perfectly still, Craig still pacing, unable to stay still. Mrs. Tweak was crying softly, her sobs were the only sound except for Craig’s quiet footsteps.

            Tweek’s parents shot up as a doctor came in the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She was solemn, her expression drawn. Craig fell to his knees, painful tears stinging his eyes. His throat felt like it was closing, he was choking on a sob.

            “P-please…” He pleaded, his voice but a soft whimper. Mrs. Tweak sobbed brokenly, this was it. Their child was dead, the love of Craig’s life was no more.

            “He’s stable for now, his wounds were extensive, but luckily only one cut was life threatening. With stitches and a blood transfusion, we were able to save him.” Tweek’s parents sighed in relief, Mrs. Tweak burying her face in her husband’s chest. Craig knew better than to be relieved, he knew that it wasn’t over.

            “His condition however…We suggest he be admitted to a facility that can help him so something like this won’t happen again. Did he show signs of severe depression or suicidal thoughts before this?” The doctor, as well as the couple next to him, looked to Craig for an answer. His breath caught in this throat, he could have stopped this. He could have done something.

            “H-he was attacked a while back…. I-I thought he was getting better, o-other than a few episodes he w-was almost normal again…” He held his head in his hands. “I-I was wrong…I-I shouldn’t have left him!” A sob broke through his resolve, shame and self-hatred eating away at him.

            “Craig…” Mrs. Tweak’s arms wrapped around him, rubbing his back soothingly.

            “You couldn’t have known it was this bad, son.” Richard assured. None of it made him feel better, it was his fault. He never should have left him.

            “Mr. Tucker, blaming yourself now isn’t going to help anything. Some people seem to recover, to be happy, before they make an attempt on their life. It’s one of those confusing things that we won’t ever understand.”

            “H-he was upset this morning because I-I suggested he get help…I-I knew he wasn’t doing okay, b-but he pushed me away…I-I didn’t want to get angry with him! I-I didn’t want to say something stupid a-and hurt him!” He felt himself breaking down again, tremors going through his body, goosebumps rising on his skin. His heart ached with every beat, he felt like it was being torn from his body.

            He shot up, he couldn’t face Tweek like this. He needed to calm down, to be strong for the both of them.

            “I-I need some air…” The Tweak’s nodded, the nurse gave them all his room number before Craig rushed outside.

                                                            ----------------------

            _Craig, turn off the TV, that beeping is annoying…_

His head ached, the repetitive tone was making it worse. He wanted to roll over, to cover his ears, but his body felt like it was made of lead. What was this? Where was he? It didn’t smell like home…

            _Home._

Memories flooded back to him, screaming at Craig, making him leave, the razor, the blood. He should be dead. He wished he was dead, but the pain meant he was very much alive.

            He opened his eyes to a dark room, it was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He knew it was a hospital room, but he’d never woken up in one before. He looked to his left, a lump in his throat forming as he saw the one he’d wanted so desperately not to hurt. The smell of his boyfriend was comforting, but the smell of cigarettes confused him. He hadn’t smoked since high school, knowing Tweek didn’t like it.

            His hair was disheveled, he was wearing unfamiliar clothes that didn’t seem to fit right. When he looked closer, he realized they must be his dad’s. He was sleeping, his head resting on his folded arms. When he inspected the room further, he saw the clock said it was shortly after three in the morning.

            He softly brushed his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, trying not to wake him. He felt sick to his stomach when he saw bandages covering his arm.

            He drew his hand back when he felt Craig stir, afraid he’d woken him. The dark-haired boy shot up as if someone had electrocuted him, his frantic eyes meeting Tweek’s. The blonde felt pain shoot though his chest as he saw how swollen his eyes were, how pale he looked. He bit his lip as he saw tears welling in his eyes, Craig was the strongest person he knew, and he was crying.

            “T-Tweek…” His voice sounded so broken, so small. He reached out to him, his warm hand cupping Tweek’s cheek. The smaller man leaned into it, closing his eyes.

            “I-I’m so sorry, Tweek…I-I never should have left you I-I should have been better…T-this is my fault…” His voice caught on silent sobs, and Tweek could feel tears stinging his eyes.

            “N-no…p-please, i-it’s not…” He felt familiar lips press against his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes. Craig was kissing all the things he almost lost, all the things he loved.

            “I-I promise I’ll never leave again…W-we’ll get through this together….” He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice even. “I-I love you…”

            “I-I love you too, Craig…”

**Author's Note:**

> Please, get help. There is always someone who will listen, someone who will understand, even if it's a stranger. My tumblr is iwillstealyourvitalregions if anyone needs to talk, on or off anon.   
> You are loved.  
> You can do this.  
> You are strong.  
> XOXOXO


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